Love in Purgatory (De La Fuente Family 2)

One hand slipped over his groin with the intention of covering his erection so that it wasn’t quite so obvious, but he found himself wrapping a fist around it instead.

He released precum in his aroused state, which caused his legs to twitch and his breath to catch at the back of his throat…he released his flesh and tried to distract himself with other thoughts that didn’t involve the pleasure of the flesh. The church would work . . .

In all the years he’d been a priest, he’d followed the vow of celibacy, and hadn’t broken it until Emelia. He didn’t count the night of Ramon’s wedding, or his dreams, because it appeared he had no control over them. But he did kneel at the altar in his church and pray for forgiveness—absolution of his sins.

He was free now. He’d made the choice that he’d been considering since Thanksgiving. It hadn’t really been a huge choice to make once he realized there was no blood between them. The sad part was that it should have been a difficult decision, but in the end he discovered his love for Emelia outshined his love for God and the Catholic Church. None of the latter kept him warm at night. None of it gave him a companion to stand by his side for the rest of his life. No one gave him that other than Emelia. God and the church had saved him at a time when he needed saving and, for that, he would always be grateful.

He didn’t think that he’d ever be able to turn his back on the church completely, and in a new town, where no one knew his background, he’d still be able to attend and pray with Emelia by his side as well.

Everything came back to Emelia, and he’d discovered that it always would.

Without much thought, he climbed from the bed, and tucked the cover around her before he headed to the bathroom to take care of the problem in his pants.

Turning the shower on, he made sure the door was closed so he wouldn’t wake his woman, and then stepped under the ice-cold water with a gasp of shock.

He’d wanted cold and that’s what he’d gotten, but it was icicle freezing, not just faucet cold. It had certainly done the trick because he was once again flaccid.

After another minute, he switched the water off and turned to find Emelia leaning against the doorjamb in all of her nakedness. “You standing there is going to defeat the purpose of me having a freezing cold shower.”

“Mmm, I promise to be good.” She climbed into the shower with him. “I want to wash you.”

His dick leaped with joy at her words, but he had enough sense to turn from her touch. “You can’t. I want you too badly to keep my hands to myself…I promised, Em.”

“I know. You’re frustrating sometimes. Just like I’m going to be until you slip inside me again.”

He groaned. “You better shower alone or I’m going to break that promise I made, and then I’ll feel like shit.”

“I know.” She kissed him briefly on the lips. “I’ll be quick. We can go and make an early breakfast.”

“Okay.” He turned the shower on warm for her and smacked her lightly on the bottom as he grabbed a towel to dry off before he tossed it into the hamper. He was also proud of himself for not once glancing into the shower to catch sight of Emelia in all her soaped up nakedness.

Shaking loose of the thoughts, he grabbed thermal underwear, along with jeans, shirt and a sweater, and hoped that they would be alone at breakfast so that they could talk. Nothing had been said once they’d left their father’s office the night before, and he knew that was probably his own fault for being so exhausted that he’d fallen asleep.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Six in the morning and Emelia knew that they’d probably had about thirty minutes before her mom appeared in the kitchen, which would hopefully give them enough time to talk about their plans. Or at least get on the same page before they were faced with their family again.

In a way, the night before had gone better than she’d thought it would, although she knew that she’d missed the shouting because that was what had awakened her in the first place. She wondered what the shouting had been about. What had been said?

With the last still on her mind, she eyed Dante from the corner of her eye as he grilled the bacon. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask, but breakfast would be ready within a minute, so she’d wait until they were sitting.

The waffles she currently made had already gone to a golden color so, using the spatula, she removed them from the griddle and split them between two plates.

Dante added the bacon and joined her at the kitchen table, which was usually the meeting place in the house. Everyone seemed to congregate in the kitchen at some point.

It was nice.

It was home.

Emelia sat watching Dante eat his breakfast and her heart was so full of love for the man. She couldn’t look away. She was excited that they were together, and that she could finally say she was with the man she loved.

“You’re staring.” Dante finally noticed, placing his cutlery down. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” she smiled softly, “I was enjoying it being just the two of us, knowing that we’re now together.”

Dante reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “I love that as well, and I loved making breakfast with you.” He smiled and went back to eating, indicating with his hands for her to dig in.

She picked her cutlery up, and asked, “What was the shouting I heard last night?” It would really play on her mind if she didn’t know what exactly was going on.